The Cage
by Rhythm
Summary: A routine meeting at the warehouse has disastrous results for Sydney and Vaughn.


**Title:** The Cage  
**Author:** Rhythm  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine, although I will cheerfully accept donations. Except, only give me Haladki if you wish him a sudden and painful end.   
**Archive:** Probably - but ask me first, just in case.  
**Feedback:** You only have to send feedback if you read the story...  
**Summary:** A routine meeting at the warehouse has disastrous results for Sydney and Vaughn. 

*Warning*: This one's rough, kiddies, look out. 

-~-  
**The Cage**  
-~- 

The wind was brisk as I pulled open the door to the warehouse, and my hair blew all around my face as I stepped inside. Rubbing my hands together with a shiver, I made my way through the crates toward the little fenced off area that was my frequent meeting place with Vaughn. 

When the telephone call asking for Joey's Pizza had come, it had been difficult to keep the enthusiasm out of my voice; our last meeting had been nearly a week ago, and I'd been getting antsy. I was always ready for a new counter-mission, of course, but my smile as I turned the final corner and arrived at the fence was not eagerness for an assignment. 

What I saw froze that smile on my face, and I stood in appalled silence as I stared through the chain links. 

Vaughn, who usually sat on one of the stacks of boxes as he waited, knelt against the wall with his hands tied behind him. He didn't turn to face me, although the clicking of my high heels must have signaled my coming the minute I entered the warehouse. Vaughn stayed absolutely still - as did the gun held not two feet from his head. 

The gun I hardly glanced at - instead my eyes locked with those of Anna Espinosa, who gave me an impudent look as she brought the gun barrel down to touch the side of Vaughn's head. 

"Agent Bristow," she said in accented English, "I like your taste in...friends. Though not your choice of location." 

My hand went to the gate, and I looked down to see that it had been padlocked shut; a quick glance upward told me that there was barbed wire at the top of the fence where there had been none before; there was no way in to help him. Anna laughed softly as I shook the gate in frustration, and gave the back of Vaughn's head a hard tap with her gun. I saw his shoulders tighten as his head thunked against the wall, and I jerked my hands off the gate and up in a conciliatory gesture. 

"Tell me what you want, Anna, and I promise you'll get it," I said in as controlled a voice as I could manage. 

"We will see," she replied, "nothing is certain yet." She ruffled Vaughn's hair with the gun barrel. "Except, of course, that someone will die today in this room." 

"What do you want?" I whispered, taking a tiny step closer to the fence. 

"I want only to raise the stakes a little," she said as she reached her free hand into the bag at her side. She pulled out a pair of wire cutters. "I will give you this, and if you can get through the fence to help your friend before I kill him, then..." 

"No way," I interrupted, "you're not giving him a chance. You can pull that trigger a lot faster than I can cut through this fence, and you know it." 

"True," Anna said, "but I will not use the gun." She smiled a tiny ghost of a smile. "Bare hands only sounds much better, don't you think?" That last sentence she aimed at Vaughn, and for the first time he turned his head, looking up at Anna with a cautiously defiant stare. 

Anna frowned a little at this, but the frown faded as she pocketed the wire cutters, reached down and hauled Vaughn to his feet. Turning him around to face her, she pushed him back against the wall. Vaughn's eyes finally met mine for one intense second, but swiftly dropped as Anna slipped her hands and gun under his shirt and up across his chest. Her hands ran slowly around his chest, then around his back and shoulders; his gaze remained firmly on the floor, not lifting even as her fingers crept down his stomach and lingered just under his belt. The corners of his eyes narrowed, but that was all. 

"He's nicely built," she said with a sly glance at me over her shoulder, "did you ever have the opportunity to find out for yourself?" 

I didn't reply, responding only with a glare. "Pity," she shrugged. Taking a step back from Vaughn, she looked him over with a contemplative cock of her head. He met her gaze again, and this time the defiance in his eyes was blatant. 

"All in all, though, almost more of a challenge than I feel like taking on, on such a pleasant day - always I like to start with an advantage," Anna said. She raised her gun, and before he could even flinch shot Vaughn twice point-blank, once in the shoulder and once in the leg. Vaughn dropped to the floor, an agonized grunt escaping as he landed with nearly his full weight on the injured shoulder. 

Swallowing a curse, I stepped back and kicked the gate with all my strength, but it creaked and held. Anna flipped Vaughn onto his stomach and put a knee on his back. 

"More to my liking," she said with a small nod. She pulled out the wire cutters again, and tossed them in my direction; they landed just out of my reach, though I knelt down and stuck my hand as far through the wire as it would go. I could tell from the feigned innocence in her eyes that her aim had not been faulty. 

"Ready?" she asked. 

"No," I ground out, "this isn't remotely fair; just let him go and we won't stop you from leaving." It was a useless thing to say, and we both knew it; I was trying to buy Vaughn some time to recover before he had to fend off Anna. His head was turned away from me again, and he had gotten so still that I was afraid he had passed out. 

"Nonsense," grinned Anna briefly as she put the gun in her bag and slung it into the corner. 

She gave one final, hard look at me, then loosened the strap around Vaughn's wrists. 

My questions about Vaughn's state of consciousness were answered abruptly; the moment he was free he twisted into action, swinging his uninjured arm up and bringing the knife edge of his hand hard against Anna's neck. Quickly drawing his feet up beneath her, Vaughn kicked out and sent Anna staggering up and back. He braced himself against a crate and tried to pull himself up, but I could see his injured leg trying to give out, and by the time he was nearly to his feet Anna was on him. 

Jerking him the rest of the way up, she slammed him up against the fence, making the chain links rattle, and pinned his arms against it. Vaughn quickly reversed the hold on his good arm, and for several seconds they played a terrifying wrestling game. 

Reaching the wire cutters with my hand would be impossible; I yanked off my shoe and jammed it through the wire, breaking the heel off. With my shoe in hand I could reach the cutters, just barely - I began to clumsily drag it back toward me. 

Inside the cage, Anna let go of Vaughn's injured arm and, grabbing the other arm with both hands, brought her knee up hard and broke his forearm with a sickening snap. He started to let out a yell at this, but Anna gave him an elbow smash to the throat, and all Vaughn could manage was a choking sound as he slid slowly down the chain links to the floor. 

Anna stepped back a pace, and looked over at me as I frantically tried to scoot the wire cutters to within reach. She took her time coming over to me, leaving Vaughn on the ground behind her, and gazed mockingly at me as I strained for the cutters. Just as I finally got them close enough and touched them with my fingertips, she lifted her foot and stomped hard on my hand. 

I pulled my hand back with an oath, leaving the wire cutters and my shoe behind; Anna gave them a casual kick, sending them skittering far beyond my reach. I glared balefully as I grasped the wire, but Anna just shrugged and walked back over to Vaughn. 

He was still on the ground, and was clearly having trouble breathing from the blow to his larynx. When Anna pulled him up into a choking head lock he grabbed her arm and pulled, but Anna would have been a match for him at his best; with the blood from his gunshot wounds starting to soak through everywhere and very little use of either arm, I could tell he wasn't going to overpower her. 

He turned his head sideways to open up his airway, just as agents are all taught in self-defense training, but it wasn't enough. Anna shifted her weight and tightened her grasp; his labored breaths came in with a strangled whistle. Vaughn just wasn't going to break free. 

And she was choking the life right out of him. 

-~- 

There's a feeling you get, a sudden despairing surety, when you suddenly know all hope is gone. You can feel your insides squash down to make a giant empty hole in your gut, as it threatens to flare open and consume you from the inside out. You know, absolutely and for certain, it's over. 

Looking into Vaughn's eyes as he struggled for breath, I knew he knew it too. 

The warehouse was nearly silent as Vaughn twisted futilely in Anna's arms, and she went with him slowly toward the floor when his body started to relax. On the ground, he sagged back against her, and she laced her other arm under his broken one and across his chest, never releasing her chokehold. 

They stayed that way as the final ragged gasps subsided, as I knelt with one hand on the fence as though rooted there. His hands loosened their grasp on Anna's arm, falling limply to the floor. His eyes closed, and there was nothing more of sound or movement. 

-~- 

After a long moment Anna released her hold and let his head fall back, as my eyes began to tear. I fought it for a moment; then the tears came in great wheezing sobs as I covered my mouth with my hand. Anna didn't get up, but kept him cradled in her arms, a perverted Mary of the Pieta. 

Her face did not reflect holy mourning. 

I don't know why I asked Anna her reasons for killing him; there wasn't anything she could say that wouldn't make it hurt worse. 

"Because," she said, "every agent sometimes needs to add a little more excitement to their work." She gently stroked the side of his face. 

"And this adds excitement to mine," she added. 

So that was it, then. Just another sick spy game. I leaned my head against the wire. 

"You do not feel the same way, then?" Anna asked, her voice soft, jeering. I jerked my head up; that was too much. I came to my feet and aimed a side kick at the gate, but Anna held up her hand. 

"Listen," she whispered. Standing still, I heard the slamming of car doors and loud voices shouting in Russian. 

"My comrades," she said. "They are just on time." The derisive sneer on her lips deepened as I realized that I was going to have to make a quick run for it. Threats trembled on my lips, but my eyes fell to the still form cradled in her arms, and suddenly I had no stomach for further violence. I settled for a meaningful glare straight into Anna's eyes, which she took without flinching; Anna always did know when she'd won. Without another word I turned and ran. 

The other K-Directorate agents were already at the warehouse doors, and I dodged quickly through the crates, looking for a back way out. Funny how I'd never thought to scope the place out before one of our many meetings here. Perhaps it had seemed like a safe haven. 

There was a back way out, but two agents were at the door; I took refuge among several tall stacks of boxes and folded myself into as small a figure as I could manage. The agents cased the building quickly, and I watched as an agent with an assault rifle passed three feet from my hiding place. Drawing even a little further in on myself, I waited. 

The footsteps were fading, but I could sense that one person was still very close; I held my breath. When Anna stepped into view, I tensed, ready for another fight. Though she stopped, however, she did not turn in my direction; she just stood, taking measured, barely audible breaths. When she spoke I could barely hear her words. 

"Do novyh vstrech," she said - until we meet again. A second more and she disappeared from view. 

-~- 

I sat there for a long time. Long enough to hear the slams of van doors as the K-Directorate agents loaded up, long enough for the sounds of the engines to fade; long enough for the light to fade too, and then disappear entirely. Long enough for shadow, and silence, and calm. 

When I finally crept out from my hiding place, I had to feel my way to the door. Flipping on the overhead lights cast a dim, surprisingly warm light through the room, and I almost shut it off again. Warmth felt out of place. 

I could hear the hum from the light bulbs as I walked with even steps back toward the fenced enclosure. I was afraid K-Directorate had taken him - and maybe more afraid that they hadn't - but when I saw him it took me so aback that I stared for a minute. 

It wasn't the blood, although there was lots of it. Wasn't the odd angle of his arm, either. It was sort of like when you get to watch a person sleeping; you get to look more closely at them, you examine them a little more minutely than you ought to, and you don't have to worry that they're going to think you're weird for staring. It was just... this was the first time I'd ever gotten to stare at Vaughn. 

I stretched a timid hand to his shirt cuff as I sank slowly to the concrete. His arm, twisted and broken from his fight, looked grotesque up close, and with shaking hands I reached out and carefully straightened it. Taking my belt off, I wound it around his arm, binding it in proper alignment. Better. 

I wanted to pull him to me, to bury my head in his chest and let out the tears that were threatening to make my nose run. I wanted to hold him the way Anna didn't, with gentle hands and reassuring words. He deserved that. 

What he got...that he didn't deserve. He didn't deserve to get held hostage, didn't deserve to get groped like a teenage girl, didn't deserve to get shot and broken and choked, didn't deserve to die without a word. Didn't deserve that, not any of it. 

Gently, so gently, I took his hand in mine. It was cooler than the last time I'd touched his hand, on a chilly night by the Pacific with a Ferris wheel brightly blinking in the background, but the feel of his skin against mine was the same. Familiar, natural, right. Temporary... 

I held his hand as the air around us cooled, as the world sighed and reset itself, until I heard birdsongs and car horns outside and saw the first tentative beams of sunlight creep into the room through a high window. 

When the sunbeams reached my feet I took a deep breath and pulled out my cell phone. 

-~- 

They came quickly, even though I told them there was no point in hurrying. Maybe they didn't believe me. Weiss came in first, stopped dead when he saw us. The medics pushed past him and reached down, checking for a pulse. Instead of telling them to stop, that it was far too late, or maybe punching one like I wanted to, I tightened my grip on his hand and let them touch. One started to touch me, to check me for injuries, and in silence I let him tell me I needed to get my hand looked at. 

I drew the line, though, when they started to move him. I told them to back off, and my voice echoed shrilly as the medics took a step backward. Weiss shook himself back into action in response to my pleading look, and helped me lift him and lay him reverently on the stretcher. A CIA team entered with kevlar, weapons and a heat sensor as the medics started to carry him out, and suddenly the warehouse was busy and loud as they made sure no K-Directorate agent was waiting in ambush. It was too loud, too frenzied, too much. I backed into a corner and sat down, with my knees drawn up to my chin. 

Maybe I made myself appear as invisible as I felt; the CIA team slowly trickled out the door without noticing me, their work done, and soon only Weiss was left, standing still, facing the direction they'd taken the stretcher. I covered my eyes with my arm, only to jolt upright when Weiss suddenly threw a crate, smashing it against the far wall. He turned swiftly at my startled cry, and froze when he saw me; it seemed to take a second for recognition to show in his eyes. 

It was a long minute before he moved, before he approached and extended his hand down to me. I shook my head, but he said he couldn't leave me there, and I was too tired to fight him too. He drew me gently to my feet, and led me toward the door. I broke away from him and, after pushing the gate to the fence as far open as it would go, carried three big crates into the doorway, one by one. I pushed them up against the gate, blocking it open. Weiss seemed to get it, and let me lean for a moment against the crates with my eyes closed before taking my elbow and guiding me out. 

The morning sunlight was bright, shocking, a little intrusive. I squinted as Weiss eased me into his car and shut the door. He told me to buckle the seatbelt as he started the engine, but didn't press the matter when I made no move to obey. I think he didn't realize that he had said anything. He flipped the turn signal on as he turned the corner, and the warehouse disappeared from sight in the rearview mirror. 

-~- 

_ On those days when the memories come crowding fast and vivid, when my sins are heavy on my head, when I cannot lie to myself and say there was no fear in his eyes as he died, there is one thing I tell myself. _

Over and over again, I tell myself. 

It will be enough, enough to see the life drain from behind her eyes, maybe even to feel it with my hands. Enough to have an ending, enough to avenge the death. One death in vengeance for another. It will be enough. Be enough. Enough. 

Over and over again, I tell myself. 

-~-  
End  
-~- 

  


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